


Thorin's Accomplice

by jauntytune



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 09:10:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jauntytune/pseuds/jauntytune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bard harbours the Dwarves at Laketown, his sister Elka helps to feed them.</p><p>One serious, intense Dwarf catches her eye.</p><p>When he approaches her for help, she discovers that Thorin’s strong hands can be very loving indeed.</p><p>(Very mild Desolation of Smaug spoilers.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thorin's Accomplice

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [confession #311](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/33627) by anonymous. 



Elka ladles out mugs of soup and Bard’s daughters Tilda and Sigrid hand them around the travellers, who rest upon the floor.  
“What news, sister?” asks Bard.  
“The eyes on this place are many,” Elka says. “Six or seven are watching just the front door.”  
Bard nods and turns his frown towards the window, squinting at the sky.  
Elka surveys the band of travellers, who extend their hands, eager for a cup of hot broth.  
One is too impatient to sip the steaming brew and scalds his lips.  
“Ooh!” he exclaims, and elbows one of the others, who moves in turn slops some of his soup.  
“Keep still, you ninny!” the offended one exclaims. “Besides, the more you move, the more often I catch a whiff of your fishy, barrelly aroma.”  
“You don’t smell any better,” the first replies.  
A solemn Dwarf, his long, dark hair streaked with grey, catches Elka’s eye as young Sigrid hands him the mug.  
“Many thanks,” he says.  
Elka nods.

* * *

The Dwarves are arguing about their route and Elka scouring the pot when a lone Dwarf approaches her. It is the one with the dark hair, the serious eyes.  
“I must trouble you, lady,” he says quietly. “We need provisions for our journey, food that will keep.”  
“You trouble me already,” she says, scrubbing the pot. “You bring danger to Laketown, to my brother’s house, to my nieces and nephew.”  
“I think Bard is no stranger to trouble, lady,” says Thorin.  
“Elka,” she supplies.  
“I am Thorin,” he says.  
“And you have led your band to Laketown?” she muses, scrubbing. “Whatever you hoped to find here, you are disappointed. We have little enough and troubles of our own.”  
“Our need is great,” says Thorin.  
He clasps her by the hand, although it is submerged in dishwater.  
“Will you help us?” he asks.  
She turns her hand over and it slides pleasantly against his big palm in the warm water.  
Suddenly she can feel herself breathing, aware of his strong figure close beside her.  
She slides her hand deliberately against his, watching the soap suds move and beginning to feel the heat pool low in her belly.  
Then she slides her fingers between his, squeezes his hand and looks into those fierce eyes.  
“I will do what I can,” she says.

* * *

In bright moonlight Elka returns to the house with a small parcel of root vegetables, dried fish and hen’s eggs wrapped in reed matting.  
The Dwarves sleep upon the dark floor, snoring and murmuring, an indistinct mass.  
Elka slips into the pantry and, by the moonlight shining in the high window, begins placing the eggs one by one in a bowl. The shelves are otherwise mostly bare.  
She hears a footfall behind her, then another, closer. She pauses, listening, but he comes no closer.  
“The eggs are for Bard,” she says, very low. “The rest you can have.”  
Thorin closes the pantry door behind him, sealing out the sound of snores.  
He steps up behind Elka and parts her hair, kissing the back of her neck.  
She feels the warmth of his breath, a tickle of pleasure.  
He kisses again, nuzzling his nose into her hair. She closes her eyes and sinks back slightly into his embrace.  
He kisses the side of her neck and she drops her head to one side as he kisses his way up to her ear, a rush of sensation making her exhale shakily.  
He slips one hand up the front of her blouse and cups her breast, his breath hot in her ear. She feels she might melt with desire and backs her hips up to the growing hardness inside his breeches.  
His hand moves to her knee and slides up her thigh, the heavy fabric of her skirt bunching against his thick forearm as his warm fingers brush against her wetness once, then again. When he starts to caress her pleasure spot in earnest she fears her knees will give way and grabs hold of the shelf in front of her.  
With his warm body pressed close behind her she opens her legs more as his fingers rub and stroke her. She rests her cheek against the shelf and moans, moving her hips side to side, searching for more.  
Thorin uses his free hand to lift her skirts at the back and cups her buttocks as he continues to caress her pleasure spot with slick fingertips.  
Taking his hand from her bottom, he puts one thick finger in the entrance to her cunny, then another. She presses back onto him, overwhelmed with sensation as she moves back and overwhelmed again when she moves forward. The pleasure increases as he strokes and pushes and she moves her hips so he touches her more, and more, and more, until she cries out, shaking with the waves of her climax and pushing against his fingers until she subsides and stills, breathing hard.  
She turns to him and places, for the first time, a kiss on his mouth. It is deep and warm and grateful. She hugs him, kissing his cheek and beard, while she catches her breath.  
Then she drops to her knees.  
Thorin is warmly dressed, his belt heavy, his trousers complicated. He helps her loosen the garments, which slide down out of the way, and she finds he is aroused, his cock bobbing hot and thick against her hair, her cheek, her kisses.  
She nuzzles the dark hair low on his belly and touches the soft skin of his sac with her fingertips. Starting at the base of his cock she kisses along its length. When she looks up at him, he is watching her.  
Then she wets her lips and stretches them around the thick tip, flattening her tongue and sliding the vault of her mouth over as much of his length as she can manage.  
It is enough. His eyes close, so he does not see her close hers as well. His hands are in her hair, his head lolling back against the wall, his breathing fierce. She slides her wet mouth up and down the shaft, moving in time with the bucking of his hips. His skin is velvety soft and underneath that, hard as rock. He makes a deep noise and grabs hold of the doorframe as he begins to lose control, trying not to thrust too deep and choke her. He looks at her with wild eyes.  
Thorin growls deep in his chest as he comes, his cock pulsing in Elka’s mouth and the warm semen filling her throat. She moves with him until he stills, then slowly withdraws, ejecting the salty fluid into her hand and standing to kiss him on the mouth. His eyes are still closed, his face relaxed in bliss, but he reaches out one hand to tangle in the back of her hair.

* * *

The barge creaks at anchor, laden with nine Dwarves and one smaller fellow. Thorin is among those who leave, though several stay behind. Among his gear Elka sees a small parcel wrapped in familiar reed matting.  
Once the anchor is hauled the ship drifts quickly away from harbour, driven by swift winds towards goodness knows what.  
Thorin turns and catches Elka’s eye, the wind gusting in his long, dark hair.  
Then he turns his back and the cloaked figure on the wooden vessel speeds away into the mist.


End file.
